


The Sound of Silence

by Seahorsesandcats



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seahorsesandcats/pseuds/Seahorsesandcats
Summary: You can imagine my excitement when I found out that Moomins was having a renaissance. Although I'm not sure if I ever expected to write Springdove fanfic.I wrote this on a whim, and it has been years since I've written anything other than poetry so it's not supposed to be good. Literally all of it is just emotion.





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> You can imagine my excitement when I found out that Moomins was having a renaissance. Although I'm not sure if I ever expected to write Springdove fanfic.
> 
> I wrote this on a whim, and it has been years since I've written anything other than poetry so it's not supposed to be good. Literally all of it is just emotion.

It began with a small stroke of Moomin's tail against his own.  
On the first day of Spring that year, the weather wasn’t all that warm. They were settled on their bridge, feet dangling over the side as they lay in comfortable silence.  
When Moomin’s tail had twitched gently, it was only the smallest touch.  
Yet it was one that sent a shiver running up Snufkin’s spine and leaving every hair standing on end. He imagined that he would look like a hedgehog had he not been wearing his coat.  
It should have been amusing.   
But all he could think about from then was the heat of the sun at that moment, the imaginary, sweltering, suffocating heat. Moomintroll looked unbothered. Perhaps Snufkin was catching a cold. He had goosebumps running up his arms and a faint flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there two seconds ago.

\-----------------

That morning he had woken in a cave, high in the lonely mountains, to a fresh breeze that carried the smell of snow. As his senses had come to, he heard it melting and the dripping noise echoed loud enough that sleeping again was useless. He now remembered the excitement in the air, the anticipation as he had resolved that an early start was better than nothing.  
The trek into Moominvalley was uneventful, the creatures who lived there were still drowsy, waking up as the sun peered over the mountain peaks.

His Spring tune was lively, he had composed it beside the lake where they had once found the golden fish. Moomintroll had been on his mind. Snufkin had had the mouth organ for while, the reeds would no wonder wear out soon he thought idly. It would be a problem when it happened. But for now, he might as well enjoy the simple pleasure in creating music, the notes were soul-melting, he found joy in the longing and yearning behind playing the instrument. Birds mimicked his tune, and the valley rang with song as he wandered the path. Distantly, Moomintroll had stirred in his bed.

When he arrived at Moominhouse, Snufkin had felt sated by the feeling of familiarity, but pushed back the following tirade of unhappy thoughts about it. Familiarity was not something he enjoyed.   
Usually.  
When he heard the awaited rattle of a rope ladder, the accompanying shout, and the arrival of his best friend, Snufkin couldn’t care less about anything else. It had all been so simple, but the tension in the air had prickled and cracked like electricity.   
Their eyes bore into each other’s and there was a noticeable difference in their relationship, yet neither could figure out what.

\-----------------

The Mumrik was lost in thought and reflection, he decided that whatever he was feeling wasn’t uncomfortable. But it was new, or perhaps it had always been there? Questions were moving around in his head, he had never appreciated physical contact but it still wasn’t something that usually made his toes curl and his face warm. Curiosity and a little fear made his nose twitch in this self-discovery. Perhaps he was getting too comfortable. Moominvalley was the one place he returned to every year.  
But it was never about the location. He could find scenery like this anywhere, save for one thing. It was Moomin. Moomin. Moomin. His dear Moomintroll. At this point, Snufkin was most subconsciously leaning further onto Moomin’s shoulder. How long had he wanted this?   
It was a pleasant feeling.  
Until he realised it shouldn’t be.  
Until the alarm kicked in.   
He caught himself before he could give into the desire for closer contact. The breath in his chest struggled past a lump of emotion forming in the back of his throat. It was all sudden, and he started overthinking, he knew what was happening, he knew what he was doing. He’d felt it before, he knew what happened when he grew attached.  
His best friend had lodged himself deep in Snufkin's heart, deeper than any friend should and it was an uncomfortable feeling. His mind reeled. It was overwhelming, he felt self-conscious, like his independence was being ripped from him. He couldn't get attached, it was a ridiculous idea. Completely against his nature. But the thoughts of his friend were so warm and inviting.

He had never felt so at home before and it then terrified him. The dread was quick to set like cement in his stomach.

Snufkin, wondering if all this was going to kill him, found it hard to hear Moomin's words over the sound of his heart beating so loudly.

“Are you okay Snufkin? You’ve been acting funny all day...”

“No, no, I’m quite alright don’t worry about me Moomintroll.”

The redness of his face deepened, their shared silence became tense. Feeling embarrassed beyond relief at his noticeably flustered state, the Mumrik tried to hide under his hat, pulling the brim right over his eyes.  
Unfortunately, his hands were shaking so much, to the point that his hat slipped right off of his head and into the river.  
In the midsts of his internal breakdown, Snufkin didn’t care. He needed to leave.

“I have to go,” offering no more explanation, Snufkin leapt to his feet and raced away to his tent. His heart was trying to escape his chest and his feet stumbled. He ignored Moomin’s surprised voice, tripping on the grass and almost throwing himself under his blanket. He was gasping for breath, trying not to scream. It was all a disgrace, useless feelings, he needed to be alone.

The complete hopelessness of the situation was too much. Nothing would help, no amount of talking himself down, or repeating the mantra that would usually be enough. He tried to convince himself 'It's okay to cry. It's okay to feel this way. As long as I know myself I'm fine. I don't need to let anything get the better of me.' but they were empty thoughts that tumbled and rolled around his head.

In the burning wave of embarrassment for himself, sobs wracked his body and he fought to breathe. Where had his stability gone? Snufkin felt light headed, his hands grasped for anything to hold and his own arms were the best comfort, he was alright, nothing needed to be wrong, it was good to care, he was allowed to. He let himself cry as he trembled, eyes wide open with desperate distress, trying to regain composure. 

Everything seemed to be throwing itself out of whack, the heaps of emotions running rampant he was overwhelmed by. Who was he becoming? He really enjoyed his life, he enjoyed being unreliant, being independent, no one needed to care, he loved himself enough for the world. Where was the point in desiring closeness, why did being around Moomin make him want to talk for hours upon hours, to hear his laugh, and why did Snufkin want so much to make him happy?

It was never like this before and it felt unfair. He was tormented by longing, the feeling that used to bring him wonder, the feeling that let him dream past the stars. It was trapping him.

Snufkin knew it was easier not to feel the feelings he did, but oh how much he selfishly wanted to.


End file.
